Two on a Tower

by Thomas Hardy

  V

  On the third morning after the young man's departure Lady Constantineopened the post-bag anxiously. Though she had risen before four o'clock,and crossed to the tower through the gray half-light when every blade andtwig were furred with rime, she felt no languor. Expectation couldbanish at cock-crow the eye-heaviness which apathy had been unable todisperse all the day long.

  There was, as she had hoped, a letter from Swithin St. Cleeve.

  'DEAR LADY CONSTANTINE,--I have quite succeeded in my mission, and shall return to-morrow at 10 p.m. I hope you have not failed in the observations. Watching the star through an opera-glass Sunday night, I fancied some change had taken place, but I could not make myself sure. Your memoranda for that night I await with impatience. Please don't neglect to write down _at the moment_, all remarkable appearances both as to colour and intensity; and be very exact as to time, which correct in the way I showed you.--I am, dear Lady Constantine, yours most faithfully,

  SWITHIN ST. CLEEVE.'

  Not another word in the letter about his errand; his mind ran on nothingbut this astronomical subject. He had succeeded in his mission, and yethe did not even say yes or no to the great question,--whether or not herhusband was masquerading in London at the address she had given.

  'Was ever anything so provoking!' she cried.

  However, the time was not long to wait. His way homeward would liewithin a stone's-throw of the manor-house, and though for certain reasonsshe had forbidden him to call at the late hour of his arrival, she couldeasily intercept him in the avenue. At twenty minutes past ten she wentout into the drive, and stood in the dark. Seven minutes later she heardhis footstep, and saw his outline in the slit of light between the avenue-trees. He had a valise in one hand, a great-coat on his arm, and underhis arm a parcel which seemed to be very precious, from the manner inwhich he held it.

  'Lady Constantine?' he asked softly.

  'Yes,' she said, in her excitement holding out both her hands, though hehad plainly not expected her to offer one.

  'Did you watch the star?'

  'I'll tell you everything in detail; but, pray, your errand first!'

  'Yes, it's all right. Did you watch every night, not missing one?'

  'I forgot to go--twice,' she murmured contritely.

  'Oh, Lady Constantine!' he cried in dismay. 'How could you serve me so!what shall I do?'

  'Please forgive me! Indeed, I could not help it. I had watched andwatched, and nothing happened; and somehow my vigilance relaxed when Ifound nothing was likely to take place in the star.'

  'But the very circumstance of it not having happened, made it all themore likely every day.'

  'Have you--seen--' she began imploringly.

  Swithin sighed, lowered his thoughts to sublunary things, and toldbriefly the story of his journey. Sir Blount Constantine was not inLondon at the address which had been anonymously sent her. It was amistake of identity. The person who had been seen there Swithin hadsought out. He resembled Sir Blount strongly; but he was a stranger.

  'How can I reward you!' she exclaimed, when he had done.

  'In no way but by giving me your good wishes in what I am going to tellyou on my own account.' He spoke in tones of mysterious exultation.'This parcel is going to make my fame!'

  'What is it?'

  'A huge object-glass for the great telescope I am so busy about! Such amagnificent aid to science has never entered this county before, you maydepend.'

  He produced from under his arm the carefully cuddled-up package, whichwas in shape a round flat disk, like a dinner-plate, tied in paper.

  Proceeding to explain his plans to her more fully, he walked with hertowards the door by which she had emerged. It was a little side wicketthrough a wall dividing the open park from the garden terraces. Here fora moment he placed his valise and parcel on the coping of the stonebalustrade, till he had bidden her farewell. Then he turned, and inlaying hold of his bag by the dim light pushed the parcel over theparapet. It fell smash upon the paved walk ten or a dozen feet beneath.

  'Oh, good heavens!' he cried in anguish.

  'What?'

  'My object-glass broken!'

  'Is it of much value?'

  'It cost all I possess!'

  He ran round by the steps to the lower lawn, Lady Constantine following,as he continued, 'It is a magnificent eight-inch first quality objectlens! I took advantage of my journey to London to get it! I have beensix weeks making the tube of milled board; and as I had not enough moneyby twelve pounds for the lens, I borrowed it of my grandmother out of herlast annuity payment. What can be, can be done!'

  'Perhaps it is not broken.'

  He felt on the ground, found the parcel, and shook it. A clicking noiseissued from inside. Swithin smote his forehead with his hand, and walkedup and down like a mad fellow.

  'My telescope! I have waited nine months for this lens. Now thepossibility of setting up a really powerful instrument is over! It istoo cruel--how could it happen! . . . Lady Constantine, I am ashamed ofmyself,--before you. Oh, but, Lady Constantine, if you only knew what itis to a person engaged in science to have the means of clinching a theorysnatched away at the last moment! It is I against the world; and whenthe world has accidents on its side in addition to its natural strength,what chance for me!'

  The young astronomer leant against the wall, and was silent. His miserywas of an intensity and kind with that of Palissy, in these struggleswith an adverse fate.

  'Don't mind it,--pray don't!' said Lady Constantine. 'It is dreadfullyunfortunate! You have my whole sympathy. Can it be mended?'

  'Mended,--no, no!'

  'Cannot you do with your present one a little longer?'

  'It is altogether inferior, cheap, and bad!'

  'I'll get you another,--yes, indeed, I will! Allow me to get you anotheras soon as possible. I'll do anything to assist you out of your trouble;for I am most anxious to see you famous. I know you will be a greatastronomer, in spite of this mishap! Come, say I may get a new one.'

  Swithin took her hand. He could not trust himself to speak.

  * * * * *

  Some days later a little box of peculiar kind came to the Great House. Itwas addressed to Lady Constantine, 'with great care.' She had it partlyopened and taken to her own little writing-room; and after lunch, whenshe had dressed for walking, she took from the box a paper parcel likethe one which had met with the accident. This she hid under her mantle,as if she had stolen it; and, going out slowly across the lawn, passedthrough the little door before spoken of, and was soon hastening in thedirection of the Rings-Hill column.

  There was a bright sun overhead on that afternoon of early spring, andits rays shed an unusual warmth on south-west aspects, though shadyplaces still retained the look and feel of winter. Rooks were alreadybeginning to build new nests or to mend up old ones, and clamorouslycalled in neighbours to give opinions on difficulties in theirarchitecture. Lady Constantine swerved once from her path, as if she haddecided to go to the homestead where Swithin lived; but on secondthoughts she bent her steps to the column.

  Drawing near it she looked up; but by reason of the height of the parapetnobody could be seen thereon who did not stand on tiptoe. She thought,however, that her young friend might possibly see her, if he were there,and come down; and that he was there she soon ascertained by finding thedoor unlocked, and the key inside. No movement, however, reached herears from above, and she began to ascend.

  Meanwhile affairs at the top of the column had progressed as follows. Theafternoon being exceptionally fine, Swithin had ascended about twoo'clock, and, seating himself at the little table which he hadconstructed on the spot, he began reading over his notes and examiningsome astronomical journals that had reached him in the morning. The sunblazed into the hollow roof-space as into a tub, and the sides kept outevery breeze. Though the month was February below it was May in theabacus of the column. This state of the atmosphere
, and the fact that onthe previous night he had pursued his observations till past two o'clock,produced in him at the end of half an hour an overpowering inclination tosleep. Spreading on the lead-work a thick rug which he kept up there, heflung himself down against the parapet, and was soon in a state ofunconsciousness.

  It was about ten minutes afterwards that a soft rustle of silken clothescame up the spiral staircase, and, hesitating onwards, reached theorifice, where appeared the form of Lady Constantine. She did not atfirst perceive that he was present, and stood still to reconnoitre. Hereye glanced over his telescope, now wrapped up, his table and papers, hisobserving-chair, and his contrivances for making the best of a deficiencyof instruments. All was warm, sunny, and silent, except that a solitarybee, which had somehow got within the hollow of the abacus, was singinground inquiringly, unable to discern that ascent was the only mode ofescape. In another moment she beheld the astronomer, lying in the sunlike a sailor in the main-top.

  Lady Constantine coughed slightly; he did not awake. She then entered,and, drawing the parcel from beneath her cloak, placed it on the table.After this she waited, looking for a long time at his sleeping face,which had a very interesting appearance. She seemed reluctant to leave,yet wanted resolution to wake him; and, pencilling his name on theparcel, she withdrew to the staircase, where the brushing of her dressdecreased to silence as she receded round and round on her way to thebase.

  Swithin still slept on, and presently the rustle began again in the far-down interior of the column. The door could be heard closing, and therustle came nearer, showing that she had shut herself in,--no doubt tolessen the risk of an accidental surprise by any roaming villager. WhenLady Constantine reappeared at the top, and saw the parcel stilluntouched and Swithin asleep as before, she exhibited somedisappointment; but she did not retreat.

  Looking again at him, her eyes became so sentimentally fixed on his facethat it seemed as if she could not withdraw them. There lay, in theshape of an Antinous, no _amoroso_, no gallant, but a guilelessphilosopher. His parted lips were lips which spoke, not of love, but ofmillions of miles; those were eyes which habitually gazed, not into thedepths of other eyes, but into other worlds. Within his temples dweltthoughts, not of woman's looks, but of stellar aspects and theconfiguration of constellations.

  Thus, to his physical attractiveness was added the attractiveness ofmental inaccessibility. The ennobling influence of scientific pursuitswas demonstrated by the speculative purity which expressed itself in hiseyes whenever he looked at her in speaking, and in the childlike faultsof manner which arose from his obtuseness to their difference of sex. Hehad never, since becoming a man, looked even so low as to the level of aLady Constantine. His heaven at present was truly in the skies, and notin that only other place where they say it can be found, in the eyes ofsome daughter of Eve. Would any Circe or Calypso--and if so, whatone?--ever check this pale-haired scientist's nocturnal sailings into theinterminable spaces overhead, and hurl all his mighty calculations oncosmic force and stellar fire into Limbo? Oh, the pity of it, if suchshould be the case!

  She became much absorbed in these very womanly reflections; and at lastLady Constantine sighed, perhaps she herself did not exactly know why.Then a very soft expression lighted on her lips and eyes, and she lookedat one jump ten years more youthful than before--quite a girl in aspect,younger than he. On the table lay his implements; among them a pair ofscissors, which, to judge from the shreds around, had been used incutting curves in thick paper for some calculating process.

  What whim, agitation, or attraction prompted the impulse, nobody knows;but she took the scissors, and, bending over the sleeping youth, cut offone of the curls, or rather crooks,--for they hardly reached a curl,--intowhich each lock of his hair chose to twist itself in the last inch of itslength. The hair fell upon the rug. She picked it up quickly, returnedthe scissors to the table, and, as if her dignity had suddenly becomeashamed of her fantasies, hastened through the door, and descended thestaircase.